


proditione de

by 4beit



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, minor character death (not reani)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit
Summary: you narrow your eyes, assessing for any signs of deception or trickery “what friend?”stag leans back, a smile flickering across their lips “uhm, you may know her as ivae’ess.”reani– you frown, leaning forward onto your elbows “what’s the message?”[or: at a mountain inn, reani makes an appearance]
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Reanminere "Reani"
Kudos: 46





	proditione de

**Author's Note:**

  * For [traceable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceable/gifts).



the shattered glass is a hiccup of an inn surrounded by nothing else in particular. it juts out from the mountainside looking for all the world like it is merely seconds from cascading into the valley below. behind you the shuffling of papers indicates that caleb is consulting possibly every map you collectively have, while beside you nott suggests “it could be a trap,” with the sort of unbridled enthusiasm that only she can encapsulate. 

“or,” caduceus says, from somewhere next to caleb “it could be an inn.” 

“in the mountains?” nott counters, with the conviction of someone who is certain that mountain passes never have inns “why wouldn’t helfrid have mentioned, he was very eager to tell us about the rest of the pass.” 

“he could have forgotten.” jester chimes in, “or, or, maybe it’s new and it wasn’t around the last time he took this path.” 

“well, i don’t like it.” nott decides. 

the conversation descends into debate around the trustworthiness of a building that has smoke spiralling from two chimneys and a weather-beaten sign swinging in the evening breeze. distantly, you’re aware of caleb indicating that the inn isn’t on any map he’s been able to look at. this seems to encourage notts perspective that the building and whoever inhabits it is not to be trusted. fjord seems inclined to agree with this. you clock that yasha hasn’t chimed in – but you can hear here shifting. you wonder if she’s on alert, or if the bickering makes her uneasy. either way, her silence makes you ache. that, and the bruises from your most recent scrape with those ill-intentioned bandits who saw the group of you as easy prey. 

“fuck it,” you say “let’s just go in.” 

“but-“ nott starts. 

you cut her off “maybe it is a trap, but also maybe it’s just someone who had a good business plan who realised that people travelling on this godsforsaken pass would really like to spend a night in a bed instead of curled up on some windy cliff freezing their assess off.” you speak in one long breath and at the end of your rant, feel a curl of guilt in your stomach “sorry,” you add gruffly into the semi-stunned silence “but i’m going in. if it sounds like i’m getting murdered or whatever, maybe it is a trap after all.” 

“i’ll come with you.” nott says. 

“what if it is a trap?” you suggest with a wry, albeit exhausted smile. 

“then i get to be the first to say i told you so,” nott says, one hand drifting to her shortsword “as i’m saving your ass.” 

you snort “i look forward to it.” then, turning to look at the rest of the group “anyone else want to come to the murder inn?” 

surprisingly, caleb is the first to shift “ja, fine.” he says “if we’re going to be killed it may as well be together.” 

“i think the air up here is getting to you,” you say, looking over at caleb “that was almost funny.” 

caleb waves you off, and just like that, you’re all heading towards the shattered glass.

* * *

inside there are no lurking bandits, nor any sort of threat. instead, the air is warm and an inviting fire crackles merrily in the hearth along the distant wall. there are two figures hunched by the fire, hands wrapped around mugs of some sort of smoking liquid. yet, it is the figure behind the bar who catches your attention – bald with skin the colour and texture of polished coal. as they turn to face you, a spiral fissure curled around their right arm becomes visible and from the depths of the fissure a red glow seems to emanate. they break into a wide smile, “i was wondering how long you would stand out there.” they say, their voice reminding you of boulders rolling down a mountain side or gravel underfoot “welcome to the shattered glass,” they add “how can i help you?” 

silence for a beat until caduceus speaks “do you have any rooms available?” he says “we are looking to spend the night.” 

the barkeep does a quick count in their head and then nods “you’ll have to share.” they say “but i have the space.” 

“that’s no concern.” caduceus says “how much will it cost?” 

the barkeep considers again “i have three rooms left and as you’re all sharing, call it fifteen silver for the group.”

“you’re very generous.” nott says, her voice thick with suspicion. 

“i make a steady living,” the barkeep says “this pass is used all year round and i am the only inn along it. i have no need for great fortunes, so why charge more than i need?” 

nott blinks, the concept is more remote to her than familiar “that is very kind.” she says, sounding genuine. 

you smirk down at her, then over to the barkeep “what can we call you?” you ask, meeting their gaze and seeing the way their eyes seem to glitter even in the half shadow of the bar. 

“stag,” the barkeep replies, accepting the coins from nott and placing three keys on the counter in exchange “if you go up the stairs, your rooms are the last three along the right side of the hallway.” 

as you move to follow the rest of the group upstairs, stag makes a gesture “if i may,” they say “a word?” 

you see jester glance over her shoulder and for half a second she slows, offering to stay, but you wave her along. you approach the bar, collapsing onto a well-worn stool “what’s up?” you ask. 

stag lowers their voice “am i correct in assuming you are a monk by the name of beauregard?” 

you let no expression flicker across your face, but tension drops down your spine “who’s asking?” 

“a mutual friend,” stag says “has asked me to pass on a message to beauregard.” 

you narrow your eyes, assessing for any signs of deception or trickery “what friend?”

stag leans back, a smile flickering across their lips “uhm, you may know her as ivae’ess.” 

reani – you frown, leaning forward onto your elbows “what’s the message?” 

stag reaches under the bar, and for a moment you stiffen further and brace for a knife or some other form of attack. all that happens instead, is the placement of a key in front of you “she requested that upon your arrival, you be given this.” 

you look down at the key, it looks like the ones just given to your friends. 

“is she here?” you ask. 

stag nods once “she arrived a day ago. room one.” 

you blink quickly, trying to process this “okay,” you say “okay, okay. uh, thanks?” it’s more question than comment. 

“i warn you beauregard,” stag says “the rule our friend upholds has cost her greatly. proceed with some caution.”

“the rule,” you start, then trail off remember reani’s words all those weeks ago 

“the rule is that evil dies.” 

you wonder if samliel has finally decided that you’re less than morally upstanding undertakings have earned you a spot on the list of evil. 

you wonder if this is all some elaborate set up for reani to kill you. 

you wonder if this inn is a trap after all. 

“uh,” you say, looking over at stag “i would appreciate if you could say more on that. before i go see her.” 

“i don’t think she intends to kill you.” stag says “if that is your concern.” 

“i mean, that’s good to hear, but-“ you trail off before “you’re sure it was ivae’ess?” 

stag nods “without a doubt. more upset than i have ever seen her.” 

“can i, uh, ask you something?” you start. 

stag’s eyes glitter “of course.” they oblige. 

“how do you know her?” 

stag’s smile breaks again and there is something fond in the way they look past you, as if looking upon memories “we caused some trouble together.” they say “before my retirement here.” 

“sounds like you have some stories.” you say, before from the corner of your eye, a flicker of familiar blue descending down the stairs catches your attention. 

jester. 

“excuse me.” you say, slipping the key out of sight and nodding jester towards a table. 

“what is it?” jester says, concern in her eyes as she sits across from you. 

“reani is here.” you murmur. 

jester’s eyes light up and she looks around “where?” she smiles. 

you shake your head “stag gave me a key to her room, said that” you cast your mind back to their exact words “the rule our friend upholds has cost her greatly. proceed with some caution.” 

jester frowns “that sounds very bad.” 

“yes.” you agree “what if,” you start “what if samliel has told her i’m evil?” you refuse to meet jesters gaze, looking instead towards the fireplace. 

“you’re not evil.” jester counters at once. 

“you think that, but her angel buddy may disagree.” 

“he would be wrong.” jester says. 

“sure, maybe,” you say “but reani doesn’t question samliel. he says kill and she kills. what if he says kill me?” 

jesters eyes darken with unfamiliar ferocity “then we stop her.” 

we. 

“look,” you say “if she’s here to kill me, that’ll suck. but i think i could hold her off long enough for you guys to come back me up.” 

“you’re still going to see her?” jester asks. 

“what if she’s in trouble?” you ask “she could be in trouble and asked for me because,” you shrug uncomfortably “because we slept together and stuff?” 

jester considers this “if she’s here to kill you,” she says “then you have to say.” 

at that you can’t help but let the ghost of a smile flicker across your face “i don’t think it’s something i’d let slide.” you say, standing “i’ll go see if she’s okay.” you say “and i go up there and it sounds like i’m fighting for me life, then maybe come check on me?” 

“what if she stings you as a scorpion?” jester hisses. 

you frown, remembering suddenly there are any number of animal forms that reani could take and just maul you “let’s hope she doesn’t.” you decide, “and if she does, and i survive, at least i’ll have some cool scars.” 

jester seems less than thrilled about this “i’ll be fine.” you say, both to her and yourself “i’ll be fine.”

* * *

you decide to knock on reani’s door. 

you decide that if she’s going to kill you, your best chance of avoiding that is to have her come to you, come to the door. when you hear the footsteps crossing the room, when you see the handle twist and you’re prepared, braced for, anger and violence in reani’s eyes, the sadness you see instead punches you in the gut. 

“reani,” you breathe “reani what happened?” 

her halo is as dim as you’ve ever seen it. the normal spark in her eyes is gone, replaced by the familiar puffiness that comes with hours of crying. there’s dried blood splashed across her neck and there’s a bruise swollen across her cheek. her hand is shaking, gripping the doorframe as she shifts aside “uhm,” she says, head dropping. 

you move into the room, comfortable that she’s not here to kill you – but deeply terrified that something has happened to her, that something bad has happened to reani. 

the room itself is as standard as you’ve ever seen for an inn. yet for reani it feels sterile and barren. you see few of her belongings, no sign of the dog bed she sometimes uses. you see no indication that any of her possessions, beyond the familiar shape of her wand on the bedside table. the bed is untouched, the window firmly shut with the curtain pulled across. 

“you can,” you start, your mouth dry and your heart pounding “you can talk to me. if you want. if it’ll help.” you say “and if, if you don’t want to, that’s fine too. we, i can sit. i can stay.” 

for long seconds, reani stands near the centre of the room, her back to you “i,” she starts, stops “remember how i told you that i would do what samliel told me?” 

“yeah,” you say, “he’s your guide. you,” you trail off “you trust him.” 

“trusted.” reani says. 

you take a step forward “what happened?” you ask, the question filling the space “are you hurt? did, did someone hurt you?” 

even the thought makes you feel a little bit sick. you know reani can handle herself, you know she has unquestionably violent tendencies when provoked and you know she has a lot of enemies. to see her like this, 

it’s unnerving. 

“i,” reani says, her hands trembling again “i killed umi.” 

ice drops down your spine “umagorn?” you clarify. 

reani nods, her back still to you “samliel told me too, in a dream. said he was evil.”

you can’t imagine umagorn as evil, or not like the evil that you’ve seen in the world – and really, you’ve seen so much, suffered through so much of it. 

“i did it.” reani says “but,” she swallows hard “but i think, i think, i think it was a mistake?” her voice is thick with tears and fear and the lilt of a question. 

your mind is racing and you force a steady exhalation “why do you think that?” you say, aware of the sounds of footsteps moving down the hall and muffled voices conversing about much needed food. 

“umi was good.” reani breathes “he, i-“ she pauses, further words dissolving into uneven breaths and the familiar gasp of tears “i’ve killed lots of evil,” she says “and he, he doesn’t fit.” 

you’re standing there, looking at the trembling rise and fall of reani’s shoulders as she struggles to speak. 

“did samliel say why you had to kill him?” 

reani shakes her head “he just said i had to. he said it was important.”

an anger ignites deep in your stomach, an anger not directed at reani. no, this anger was directed at samliel, the manipulative fucker who pushed reani to murder her friend. 

“and i think,” reani says, forging on despite the obvious tears in her voice “and i think because i did that,” she swallows hard “that means i’m evil?” 

oh no. 

your stomach twists as you realise where that train of thought leads. 

“no,” you say quickly “you’re not evil.” you take another step towards reani, and another as she doesn’t move. you can’t say this to her back, despite the pounding of your heart and the sick feeling in the back of your throat. so instead, you face her. 

reani won’t look at you, but you can see the tears streaming down her cheeks. you can feel her pain, confusion “i think,” reani says, with forced control she doesn’t have “that i might be.” 

“you’re not,” you repeat “doing a bad thing doesn’t make you evil.” you say “especially not when the thing you’ve done is because someone else told you to.” 

your mind drifts to yasha, to how you wish you could have this conversation with her. 

“he, samliel,” you force yourself to say his name “he got inside your head, he used you, used your belief in good over evil and he used it for himself. and none of that makes you evil.”

“but i kill umi,” reani says “i did it. i-i stabbed him.” 

“if you were evil,” you start “you wouldn’t be standing here crying.” you tell her “you wouldn’t be feeling all the pain that you feel over your friends death. you wouldn’t be questioning everything you believed in.” you reach out, fingers brushing the back of reani’s hand. 

she doesn’t move. 

“you’re not a bad person.” you say firmly, taking her hand in your own “you’re just someone who did something bad.” you tell her “there’s a difference.” you look down at reani, take in the way her lips are pressed shut into thin line, her cheeks are soaked with tears. less than a foot away you’re close enough to see the painfully faltering glow of her halo “you’re not a bad person.” you tell her, voice lower now, but still firm, still unrelentingly honest. 

reani shakes her head “you don’t-“ she starts, step back, her hand slipping from yours. 

“i do,” you tell her, “i-we- all of us. we’ve all done questionable things, bad things. we’ve all fucked up. but i think,” you’re struggling now, trying to form words for emotions you haven’t placed yet “but i think what we’re all learning that one bad choice, two bad choices doesn’t define you. it’s over our whole life, and we can keep making choices. and they can be the same ones we have been, or, or” you fumble for a moment “or they can be different and it can be scary and hard and difficult, but just,” you take a step closer “just because you killed umi, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. and you don’t have to believe that now, but it’s the truth.” you run out of steam, exhaling and unsure of what to say next.

you stand there, a foot from reani, hands by your side. you feel sweat beading at the nape of your neck and the pounding of your heart has started to slow. 

silence reigns, 

a minute, 

two, 

three. 

then, reani speaks, her voice wavering and thin “i don’t know what to do.” she says, meeting your gaze for the first time since you’ve stepped into the room. 

the spark in her eyes is dampened, gone entirely. her palpable sadness makes you ache. 

you swallow hard, there’s no easy answer you can give her “well,” you say, despite your nerves and misgivings about how well-suited you might not be to give this advice “you keep going. you start over. you make new choices. you decide how you want to view the world and you work on that. you, you decide what’s important to you and hold it close.” you trail off, swallow hard. 

“what’s important to you?” reani asks and the question throws you. 

you run a hand through your hair, fingertips scratching at the shaved portion lightly “well,” you say “taking care of my friends, looking out for them. helping people. not being a total asshole. i don’t, i don’t know if i can be a good person, but i think i can be not a bad person. so i’m working on that.” you glance away from reani, unsure if the answer is helpful at all “but those things, those things don’t have to be what’s important to you. you can want different things.” 

“what if i want to kill samliel?” reani asks quietly. 

you’re not even sure how she would go about that but “i think to want that is okay,” you say “but don’t, don’t pin all your hopes on making it make you feel better. because even if you do kill him, them, whatever samliel turns out to be, umi will still be dead. that won’t have changed. and the fact that you killed him won’t have changed. but, but wanting samliel dead, that’s not a bad thing to want but it also won’t help you feel any better. probably.” 

reani falls into silence at this, only her sniffles breaking stillness. 

“you don’t have to figure it out now.” you say “i think it takes time, space. i’m sure stag would keep you around. they seem cool. or,” you swallow hard “or you could come along with us. we’re, we’re all kind of in the same boat. trying to be not bad people and trying to help the world, or something like that. might help you figure out what to do next?” 

your palms are sweaty, your mouth dry and the room feels overwhelmingly hot. 

“thank you,” reani says finally, after long seconds pass wherein you’ve convinced yourself you’ve said the wrong things “i-after i realised what i’d done, after i realised it felt different from the other times, i started ignoring samliel. i needed to talk to someone and i, i thought of you and-“ she trails off, worked up and anxious. 

“come downstairs,” you say quietly, into reani’s anxious pause “we’re going to sit and eat and probably drink a lot. they won’t ask questions. or, nott probably will but i can get her to shut up. you just, you shouldn’t be alone.” 

you reach out a hand for reani’s “if it makes you uncomfortable or whatever, you can always go. but you should be around friends, around people who care about you.” 

reani’s eyes glitter with tears as she glances over at you “okay.” she says quietly, lacing her fingers with yours “you care about me?” 

you hate the surprise in her voice. 

you squeeze her head “yeah,” you say, voice thick with the steadfastness of your own emotions “yeah, i care about you.” 

reani’s halo brightens imperceptibly and for now, 

as she walks out of her room with you and down to the bar, 

that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for traceable. 
> 
> feel free to come shout at me on tumblr at 4beit.


End file.
